


Parallel Lines Cross At Infinity

by maydayparade8123



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Sadness, Swearing, a few innuendos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-27
Updated: 2013-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:17:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maydayparade8123/pseuds/maydayparade8123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A work-a-holic and someone just trying to escape their father’s shadow; one lacking love and one desperately looking to find it; a woman and a man; green and grey. Then somewhere along the way, they crossed paths in an infinite of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel Lines Cross At Infinity

**Author's Note:**

> I co-wrote this story with [ Jamie](http://fanfiction.net/~allstarry707).

 

“ _It’s weird meeting people for the first time and realizing they know more about your private life than you know about them. You’ll be sitting in a pub chatting to a stranger and half way through they mention something about your daughter living in America. What?” —Michael Sheen_

* * *

Percy’s addiction to caffeine was borderline sad. Therefore, it wasn’t surprising that his immediate thought when he rolled out of bed was  _I need coffee. Growing up, he had always promised himself that he wouldn’t become that grumpy man in his twenties impatiently waiting in line for his regular toffee nut latte, and yet, that man now held an uncanny resemblance to him._

It was always the same coffee shop: some hole in the wall referred to as  _The Saloon_. Ever since his college years, he was a dedicated customer, visiting nearly every day—sometimes, even twice. Percy could say, with confidence, that the elderly manager adored him to bits. She had been calling herself “Fay” for ages, since the majority of the small town couldn’t pronounce a Greek name: one that easily slipped Percy’s mind.

The moment Percy stumbled through the door, tripping over his own two feet as usual, Fay called out a maternal, “Good morning, sweetie!”

Percy grinned sleepily, half-waving and half-falling over again. “Good morning, Ms. Fay,” he answered easily. “You still don’t look a day over twenty.” His smile, though half-hearted, still caused motherly affection to swim through Fay’s veins. She always considered Percy one of her own children. Needless to say, Fay was utterly and completely charmed by Percy’s debonairity and manners which were nearly extinct in today’s society.

Harmoniously, she slapped Percy with the damp dishtowel from over her shoulder. “I’ll take that as, ‘may I please have my usual?’”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, not complaining in the slightest when she ruffled his hair.

“Get this boy his toffee nut latte!” she ordered. Percy smiled at the litany of melodious hello’s he received, simply from the recognition of his drink order. “How’d you sleep, dearest?”

“Great,” Percy answered, not really lying yet not really telling the truth.

He acquired as much sleep as the average person but woke up at least three times every night on the right side of the bed. He wasn’t bothered by it anymore—in fact, he was convinced that it was related to his problem with caffeine, one that seemed to leave his pockets dry every time it wet his mouth. Nevertheless, there was an itching notion, filed somewhere in the back of his cerebral cortex, that there was something more to that—that there was something missing as his arm constantly draped over the cool, left side of his sheets, and his hand only held tightly onto a flimsy bill that lined his pocket. Percy handed over that five dollar bill, refusing his clanking change when Fay tried to hand it to him. She smiled gratefully, and Percy turned to find his seat still empty and anticipating his warm arrival.

His task of the morning was bills. He mindlessly flipped through them, barely even registering the five digit totals on each one. Percy preferred to go through such tedious motions in the presence of people, since they provided a much appreciated distraction for when his dyslexia became overwhelming; it often pleaded with his mind to take a break from the pointless numbers that he would have to pay anyways.

As it would happen, Percy needed a break about ten minutes in, give or take nine minutes and fifty-five seconds. His eyes quickly flitted across the coffee shop, settling for the longest on an elderly couple that sat in the corner. A smile slipped across his features as the elderly man squeezed the woman’s hand, lying intertwined at the middle of the table. Her free arm wrapped around a toddler, no older than three, maybe, laughing delightedly at the colorful tablecloth that rustled between the babe’s pudgy fingers.

Percy’s eyes fell onto the identical, checkered tablecloth before him, not one crumb scattered across it. Having a family was another thing he’d promised himself, as he grew into adolescence and later adulthood. He had yet to meet the perfect woman, have a beautiful child, and finally be content with life: to accept the crumbs on the table and the limited sleep. He liked to think that he was already prepared for the little-to-no sleep part and flexible enough for the rest. It was almost like there was the vacant space for a child in his life, just waiting to be filled with a little girl climbing onto the left side of his bed before snuggling between her mother and himself.

Percy had noticed this over time. He constantly had space—space for someone else in his queen-sized bed; space for another resident in his apartment; space for another coffee mug in the cupboard; space for another toothbrush in the extra slot; space for another shampoo bottle on the shower ledge.

His eyes resumed wandering carelessly over the tables—some filled with comfortable readers sipping their tea; some filled with workers eternally typing on their laptops; some with teenagers aimlessly teasing their friend about a girl a couple booths down; some with cute couples smiling at each other over coffee.

Percy felt small.

Looking at the world like that, in somewhat of an out-of-body experience, he had never felt so  _alone_. Swallowing the inexplicable lump in his throat, he glanced at the handwritten menu just behind the counter. Written in the flowing handwriting of none other than Fay herself, it was warm and inviting, as opposed to the harsh, typed menus at so many restaurants. His eyes lingered further across the chalkboard, skimming over the quote of the day.

Typically, they were lousy phrases that only could be extracted from soggy fortune cookies. Today, however, his eyes were drawn to the place just below the board, where two baristas rushed to clean up a mess, stacking utensils and dishes upon the top of machinery. Despite the offhand sweep his eyes normally made over the cheesy quote of the day, the commotion of the two baristas was not enough to hold his attention; instead, his ADHD propelled his brain from the clinking of hurriedly moved objects towards the quote of the day. He was surprised to find it displaying something far from corny, something that evoked an odd stomach tumble at each passing word as the letters fell into their correct places.

He winced as the younger of the two baristas bumped into the other, causing the new stack of cups to fall over. “Fay,” Percy called out, hearing her make a sound of acknowledgement, “when are you going to make that quote something good?” he joked, knowing that Fay would certainly slap him had she been in slapping distance. “You know, something about water or a river or something.” He heard the distinct mumbling of Fay, knowing he hit the right chord with her, yet also knowing that he would never see said quote.

_Where was he?_  Oh, yes, reading the quote, “there are some lines that seem to be parallel, having a lot in common, but only meeting once, for a moment.”

He cocked his head to the side, curiously considering the quote. For the first time in a while, Percy was glad he had paid attention to the portion of the chalkboard he tended to overlook. It stimulated a suppressed thought: the fact that he had only been an adult for four years. Sometimes, people didn’t find “ _the one_ ” until later in life, and surely, that had to be him. It wasn’t so much that he was doing something wrong; he just had to wait for the perfect girl to cross his path. His “other half” had to be out there somewhere. And if love was real at all, they would find each other soon enough.

* * *

_“Sometimes the soul takes pictures of things it has wished for, but never seen.” ―Anne Sexton_

* * *

Annabeth slipped her Nexus 4 into her jacket pocket, careful to leave the zip open so as to grab it at a moment’s notice. Her eyes barely registered the common name –lia’s Ragin– as she slid into the coffee shop, letting the warm aroma of espresso flit into her nose. In spite of the numerous cups of coffee she had consumed over her many college, not to mention high school, years, it was a great surprise to her that for some reason, unbeknownst to her, the light, brittle smell tickled her senses in just the right way. It worked that way every day—minus a few where the sweet smell was absent from the air, causing her to lose the pleasant, warm feelings that tingled throughout her body now.

To say she had an addiction to coffee would be an understatement; it often kept her awake as she tapped away on her keyboard, the laptop screen illuminating the left side of her bed to leave the right-side desolate. A coffee firmly held its place in her left hand as the right-hand restlessly tapped the keys. Nevertheless, those early morning coffees that she brewed in haste were far from the enchanting liquid that passed through her lips in the early mornings when she stopped at the coffee shop before work.

Pressing the Nexus 10 tablet against her side with her elbow, Annabeth stalked towards the front counter, thankful that there was no line to interrupt her punctuality. She had a schedule, one that needed to be followed precisely if she planned to accomplish everything possible in the day. Regardless of her already jam-packed days, she always felt that maybe she should cut a minute out of her shower and twenty from her sleep, so as throw in another activity before her head finally got rest against her foreign pillow.

“What can I get you?” A high-pitched voice rang out from the behind the counter as Annabeth took her last steps to the familiar register.

“I’ll get the usu—” Annabeth paused, mid-word, finally letting the mousy girl in front of her come into focus. “You’re not Oph—”

“No, I’m not,” the girl supplied, pushing her wide-brimmed glasses onto up the bridge of her nose. “What can I get you?”

Even though Annabeth’s tongue was ready to whip out a comment regarding hospitality, her internal clock noted that she certainly had no time to waste over a girl who obviously would be losing her meaningless job within a day.  _Some people need to take their_ _work_ _more seriously_ , she internally remarked, a slight, knowing smile flickering across her lips. “I’ll take a caffè mocha with a dash of cream and only a teaspoon of sugar.”

“Wow, you sure like it strong,” the girl commented with a laugh, grabbing a cup at her right and simultaneously biting off the top of a Sharpie with her mouth.  _Spreading germs right towards the beginning of flu season. She is sure to get herself fired and leave the entire town to wallow in sickness._  ”Name?”

“Since when did you ask for names here?” Annabeth questioned, regretting the vitriolic words the second they left her mouth. The long hours for her job certainly had taken a toll on her personality—for the worse.

The mousy girl raised an eyebrow, tucking a stray hair behind her ear, “Well, I’m just trying to bring it into the twenty-first century, you know. That’s what  _Starbucks_  does.”

“If I wanted to go to  _Starbucks_ , I would have stopped five minutes down the road. Besides, you need to get your facts straight because that _Starbucks_  never asks for names,” Annabeth informed her, the internal fact checker she possessed working in overdrive. If anyone had asked, she would have said that she was merely in her work mindset. If she had asked herself, she would have said that she had never felt so— _so callous_  in her life, work or no work.

The girl nodded once, letting the orange Sharpie fall to the counter. “So, um, I’ll just get you your coffee then…” She gestured nondescriptly.

Annabeth forced a smile, nodding sharply. Her hand quickly found its way into her pocket, flinging out her cellphone as if the work ringtone had sounded; it hadn’t, but she wished it had so as to remove her mind from the horrible attitude she just put on display. The  _work-personality_  excuse was hackneyed, and she knew it. Nonetheless, it was easier for her to throw out that excuse than truly explain her actions. Sometimes, avoidance was the easiest policy, and Annabeth seemed to be using it a lot lately.

Work became her avoidance platform as she flung herself into it when certain aspects of life became a little too hard. It was for that reason that she swiftly downloaded Google Drive onto every device she owned—from her MP3 player to her phone. It made typing swift as a simple touch of the fingertip allowed her access to all the files she needed on the go. She often wondered why she even invested in so many devices when she could probably complete nearly everything on her phone; shopping for work devices quickly became a counterpart to said platform.

“Here you go,” the mousy girl muttered as Annabeth glanced down at the nametag pinned on a slant to the apron,  _Patty_.

The disposable coffee cup slid across the counter into Annabeth’s awaiting hand as she quickly pulled out the exact change from her left-hand pocket. “A receipt, please,” Annabeth uttered, wondering if she should add  _Patty_  to her request to lessen the tension. Being informal created the illusion of friendship and acknowledged the fact that Patty was a living, breathing person as opposed to just some _thing_  that took her order and retrieved it when done.

Nevertheless, no such words escaped her mouth as Patty placed the receipt onto the blonde’s hand before glancing over Annabeth’s shoulder to call on the next customer.  _Maybe next time_ , Annabeth decided, picking up her coffee cup before steering herself toward a small table that lined the cafe’s windowed wall.

As per normal, a deserted seat sat across from Annabeth, teasing her with the concept of having a companion at her side. It was a large tease because that seat remained empty for every day that Annabeth ever sat there; it was often that table that Annabeth found her legs walking towards, almost marking it as her own with a gold-plated sign. As usual, she found herself in the familiar seat, allowing for only a few minutes of relaxation out of her working day—well, as relaxed as one could be when sipping coffee.

Her eyes flitted across the coffee shop, settling finally on a younger couple with their hands entwined at the center of their small table, lined with a matching tablecloth beneath the pair of hands. If that wasn’t enough to make Annabeth’s heart drop in longing, the man swiveled his chair to place his hand gently across the young woman’s bulging belly, the ultimate signal of a young child awaiting inside, when the father’s mouth formed the words of  _a kick_. The woman, no older than Annabeth herself, smiled with something that Annabeth wished to obtain. She looked joyous—as though the excitement of having a child was simply insuppressible. It probably was, not that Annabeth would ever know.

She had long since accepted the fact that she was married to her work. She would never have the excess time to raise a family; thinking of the months she would be out of office nearly gave her a coronary. Annabeth averted her eyes from the happy couple, so full of utter affection and tried to focus on her work; tried to bury herself in her work to push away the thoughts depressing thoughts of happiness that began to creep into the creases of her mind.

And not for the first time, a dense shadow loomed over her, of which Annabeth was keenly aware. There was another chair just before her, empty and unassuming, but Annabeth knew there was supposed to be someone there—and not merely because chairs were designed for that purpose. She knew she was supposed to have a companion, and the thought haunted her just as the empty space staring back at her did.

Growing up, she had always been told that no person was to ever die in sheer solitude. In fact, she was positive that she had read a Greek myth which informed her of the fact that every single person had another “someone” out there, just waiting to be found; the person was their second half, one that ambled throughout the day, missing the other half in both the minute and grand moments of life. Maybe, there was someone out there, in that very moment, who glanced at the desolate chair across from them, realizing that a woman needed to— _no_ , she couldn’t let her mind wander to such areas.

Because the limited expansive of her cellphone screen did her no good, Annabeth quickly fumbled with her tablet, her actions much too quick to even attempt to display casual nonchalance.  _Work_ , she reminded herself. She let the word repeat itself in her mind, blocking out all thoughts of  _love_  and  _that prominent something, some_ one, _that was missing_. Instead, her hands slipped gracelessly over the keyboard dock before finally flipping it open to what she assumed would be a lock screen. Instead, her eyes met the black abyss of a sleeping tablet before she huffed a breath and forced the power button down, wishing that it wouldn’t take long to boot up. With her luck, this was one of the days the tablet opted to download an over-the-air update, prolonging the time until she could ceremoniously cover herself in her work.

Letting her eyes wander as she brought her drink to her mouth, Annabeth avoided glancing at any and all people this time—she had an uncanny ability of looking a person in the eye and simply  _knowing them_ : their problems, their happiness, their love, their regrets. It often inhibited her from truly letting herself befriend a person because for what reason would she ever want to do that when she constantly would look at them and see all of their troubles? It was much easier avoiding them just as she avoided her own problems instead of wallowing away in a sea of self-pity.

Therefore, Annabeth let her eyes flicker to behind the counter, perusing the different cookie selections while categorizing them for more efficient shelving space. Quick movement caught the corner of her eye as her attention shifted to an elderly woman who she often saw behind the counter, but generally gave no notice, gesturing with her hands towards Patty. A slight shake of her head was all Annabeth gave as she watched the elderly woman continue to make grand gestures while talking at what appeared to be a hushed level, accented with French fragments, to Patty.

If she wasn’t in her  _work-personality_  mode, she certainly would have sympathized with Patty, but her eyes merely drifted over the heads of the two co-workers and settled on a blackboard, adorned in chalky calligraphy. She, in an almost frantic manner to keep her mind busy, skimmed over the quote several times before the words registered correctly in her mind.

_Parallel lines have a lot in common but they never meet. Ever._

A frown soon found its residence upon her lips as the drop of her stomach forced her to break her gaze from the quote.  _Such a pleasant quote_ , Annabeth quipped, rolling her eyes ever-so-slightly. She certainly just recalled her reasoning for never gazing at the quote of the day—apparently, there was no in between for the little coffee shop; it was either downright depressing or gag-inducing corny. Annabeth was not sure which could be classified as being worse.

_…but they never meet. Ever._  ”Work,” Annabeth reminded herself in a breathy whisper, setting her coffee cup down to open up the word processing app on her tablet. She was married to her job; therefore, the quote should not have bothered her at all. However, with each keystroke she made, the quote replayed itself, settling in the furthest crevices of her brain, just out of reach from pushing the thought away. Surely, that quote meant nothing, especially since she had no true, conscious concern when it came to her love life; her life was her job and her job: her life. And even if there was a love besides that waiting for her, her job would always come first.

* * *

_Sensitivity and money are like parallel lines. They don’t meet._ — _Ang Lee_

* * *

Percy was mid-bite into his peanut butter and blueberry jelly sandwich when a short woman shuffled into the room. “Mr. Poseidon would like to see you, sir.”

He vaguely recognized her as one of the many secretaries of the company. With a forlorn sigh and a longing look at his unfinished lunch, Percy pushed it all into a paper bag and shoved it into the fridge. If his dad was interrupting his lunch—always his favorite time of the day—the matter  _should_  have been great.

He ambled down the hall, taking a couple turns and finally ending up in front of his father’s opaque glass door. Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly before opening the door, a bit grateful for the fact that he was most likely the only person who could get away with the disrespectful action of entering without being called in. “Hey, Dad,” Percy greeted, only to be acknowledged with a distracted nod.

“Remind him to send these out,” Poseidon commanded immediately, tapping a stack of envelopes twice. His eyes remained fixated on the screen of his Mac computer. “The mail man, I mean. He always forgets to pick up my mail. The many curses of having an office at the end of the hallway.” He laughed to himself, still clicking away. He muttered a litany of words, as though he was in the middle of reading something.

Percy scowled. His lunch had been interrupted for  _this?_  He waited for his father to say more, but he was only met with the clicking of a mouse and the sound of keys tapped. If Percy was skipping out on the other half of his sandwich, he supposed that now was as good a time as any to finally have  _that_  conversation with his father.

“Oh, sure. So, how was your day?” Percy questioned, moving to sit in the chair across from Poseidon. He knew it was in vain—it always was—but Percy still hoped for the day where he could have a  _real_  conversation with him. A conversation in which he casually presented the fact that he was considering applying for a job at the marina. Percy had the courage to go through with it, but the fact that his father was constantly up to his knees in work, or to his ears with pride in the fact that  _his son_  had entered the same line of work he had, posed a problem. Any moment could be the perfect moment to drop the news and hopefully be met with a fatherly pat on the back and an encouragement. “Good?” Percy prodded, having not heard an answer.

“Fine, fine,” Poseidon replied half-heartedly. “Busy.”

“As always,” Percy commented lightly. He didn’t mean the words rudely, but talking with his dad had felt one-sided for a long while. Poseidon seemed to pause for a second, narrowing his eyes at the screen and then turning to shuffle through some files in a cabinet. His chair rolled back with him, and Percy smiled at the sight of his father’s tie. It was one that Percy had purchased for him years ago, with small, colorful fish splayed across it. In some way, it was a reassurance that, despite it all, Poseidon was still a caring father, granted he often had odd ways of showing it.

“Mhm,” Poseidon agreed. “We’re lucky, son. Got our dream jobs. And working together!” He chuckled. “Ask any dad—this is it. The perfect life. It’s almost like my legacy will live on through you.” He kicked his way back to his computer.

“Right,” Percy started. “Actually, I—”

“No!” Poseidon shouted at his screen, soon after sighing pathetically. “I deleted an email from a potential customer.” He rubbed his temple, finally glancing at Percy. His eyes seemed to clear, for a moment, cocking his head to the side. “What were,” his eyes flickered back to the computer screen, “we saying—ah! Found it. In the trash bin.” He seemed proud of himself. “Good, good. Ah, yes, these letters, that’s what! Do send them out.”

“I’ll tell him,” Percy responded dutifully. “Anyways, like I was saying—”

Almost as if all of the fate in the world was working against him, Poseidon’s phone began ringing in the classic office tone. He looked somewhat apologetically at Percy, gesturing a bit helplessly and picking up the phone. “Hello?” Poseidon looked back at Percy and mouthed,  _‘later, okay?’_

Percy nodded, accepting that as his dismissal. He stood and turned towards the door with his shoulders slightly slumped—another day, another letdown. “Just a moment, please,” Percy heard his father say behind his back. “Wait, son!”

Percy pivoted and looked expectantly at his father. Poseidon’s eyes crinkled in the fatherly smile he always had: the one that made you feel appreciated and approved of. “Yeah?”

His father cradled the phone against his chest. “I’m proud of you, Percy.”

It was almost as if the world wanted him to feel even worse about his wishes to go into a different line of work. “Thanks, Dad,” Percy answered, regardless of the fact that his father was already jabbering away on the phone.

His office was just a few doors down from his father, a mere ten feet, at most, but Percy was suddenly wishing for his office to be miles away from his father. The words “ _I’m proud of you, Percy_ ,” swam in his head like his assortment of fish in his aquarium at home. Percy tried to suppress the rising guilt, but it was difficult. He glanced down at his clothes, seeing a pressed button up shirt, slacks, and a tie. Just like his dad. When he looked to the window, he was met with his reflection—sea green eyes and black hair.  _Just like his dad._  When he glanced around, he was enclosed by four walls, sitting in front of a computer and behind a desk. Just. Like. His. Dad.

The thought was as suffocating as a pillow over his head.

With a scowl, Percy stood up from his desk chair and purposefully left his office, making a beeline for his father’s door. He knocked twice before barging in, a new sense of determination resting on his shoulders. Taking a steadying, firm breath, he sat across from his father. “Look, Dad,” Percy started, “I need to talk to you.”

“About what?” Poseidon questioned casually, humming as he flipped through papers. His carefree attitude didn’t settle well with Percy; he didn’t mean to get mad, not  _really_ , but seeing his father ignore him was enough to have his blood pressure jump up a few notches.

“Dad,  _please_  listen to me,” Percy said forcefully, dropping a hand on top of the stack of papers to keep his father from shuffling through them any longer. He considered picking the papers up and tossing them out the closest window as his dad tried to remove his hand.

With a slightly annoyed sigh, his father looked up at him. “What is it, son?” Poseidon asked, not used to the straightforward urgency. He leaned back in his chair and waited for his son to speak his imperative matter.

“I…”  _Just great_ , Percy thought,  _here I am, and I can’t think of a single word to say_. “Uh, well…” Percy nearly hit himself. Now that he was presented with his father’s careful listening, he found that he didn’t want to utter a word.

“Is everything okay?” Poseidon questioned. His brow forward, and he moved forward in his seat, now leaning towards his son to show his undivided attention.

Percy stuttered for a moment before managing a, “no.” His father raised a questioning eyebrow, and Percy scrubbed his hands over his face. “I mean, yeah. It’s just—”

“Is this about the call earlier? I’m sorry, Percy, I really would have talked for longer, but I—”

“Dad,” Percy interjected, “no, it’s not about that. I don’t care if you don’t talk to me.” Poseidon looked offended, and he scrambled to ameliorate his words. “I mean, it’s fine. I get it. I just really wanted to talk to you about… something.”

Poseidon looked weary. “Please tell me you haven’t gone and got a teenager pregnant. As if that wouldn’t be bad enough, it’d be  _illegal_.”

Percy blushed fiercely and shook his head. “No, Dad, it’s not that either.”

“Well, if it’s not that, then how bad can it be?” Poseidon answered with a chortle. Percy laughed along with him, trying to formulate some semblance of a speech in his mind to explain the situation to his father.

“I… I was thinking that—” Percy stopped abruptly, shaking his head. His dad looked at him with eyes that were too earnest, too honestly proud of his son that was following in his footsteps. Percy could almost see the guilt coming for him, ready to crash like a fifty-foot wave. Quickly, so as to get the words out before the guilt caused him to simply leave and go back to his own office, Percy said, “I mean, you know that I’ve always wanted to work at the marina, right?”

Poseidon appeared confused. “You mentioned it a few times when you were a child,” he concurred.

“Right,” Percy carried on. “And I was thinking I might apply, you know, just to try it out.” He gestured vaguely with his hands, hoping to abate the seriousness of the matter. He shrugged, adopting a nonchalant manner about him, praying that his father believed the issue was as nominal as Percy was attempting to make it appear.

“But you have a job,” his father pointed out.

“I do,” Percy agreed, “but I was thinking of trying something different.”

“Son, think about this,” his father advised. “You have a steady job here, with your  _father_ , in an important company. Look at your pay! Think of how much less you’ll make at the  _marina_.” He said the word distastefully, as though it caused a bitter taste to materialize in his mouth.

Percy sighed, rolling his eyes at his father’s words. It wasn’t like the marina was  _the plague_. “I don’t mind not making so much money.”

“How will you support yourself?” Poseidon inquired incredulously. “You won’t get any luxury items! Your pay here is very generous—”

“I don’t care if I’ll make less money,” Percy repeated. “Giving up a couple thousand dollars a month is no big deal!”

Poseidon shook his head. “You aren’t thinking clearly, Percy. Sleep on it and get back to me when you’ve considered all of your choices—your  _life_  choices. Quitting your spot here at the company to simply ‘try’ a job out isn’t wise. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have customers to call.”

His tone was harsh and bitter. Without making eye contact, Percy stood from his seat and exited his father’s office. As he entered his own, all he saw was filing cabinets, a computer, and a desk. He saw his business-wear with his looks that reflected those of his father’s. It was almost like he was trapped in the fastlane on the highway, occasionally flicking on his blinker and hoping to get in a different lane—a different route—but his father was the car that was determined to drive just the right speed to prevent him from getting over. His father had him trapped in the fast life, the one full of computers and information technology; while Percy lusted for the more relaxed lanes, where he could drive freely as he wanted. Percy felt like he would never escape the shadow of his dad.

“I’m not my dad,” Percy said aloud. He closed his eyes and wished that he could at least hear the words reverberate off the walls and hit his ears again. It would have been a much needed reassurance, to remind himself that he was his own person. The echo would have made Percy feel as though someone was on his side, that  _someone_  out there knew it too.

* * *

_“You can give without loving, but you can never love without giving.” —Robert Louis Stevenson_

* * *

Annabeth gripped the handles of the bags, taking the last few steps down the dim hallway. Fiddling with the keys in her pocket, she finally removed the right set of keys—the one with only two keys: one for the top lock and one for the bottom. Pressing the key into the door, she quietly creaked it open, hoping not to disturb anyone behind the doors. Despite how much she may have hated surprises, she knew that they loved them, and it was heart-warming to see the shocked and joyous expressions on their face every once and a while.

Her light footfalls brought her to the living room, smiling slightly as she watched the two of them tackle their homework on the coffee table. “Surprise,” she announced, her grin only widening.

“Annabeth?” Bobby questioned, bobbing his head up to set his pencil down. She nodded.

“I thought you had to work today?” Matthew questioned, pushing his homework away from him. “You visited last week, and you normally only visit every two weeks.”

“I’m too predictable,” she murmured under her breath, thrusting the two bags in front of her. “I got you guys some things.”

Annabeth noted then the way their stressed faces softened before a certain light flickered behind their eyes, blinding the worry that darkened them before; she filled the memory away into a folder for her frustrating workday. “Seriously, what is it?”

“Bobby, you’re only a minute away from finding out,” Annabeth reprimanded with a chuckle.

Bobby shot her a look. “You know I hate surprises.”

“That’s a joke,” Annabeth countered, setting the bags down at her feet.

Bobby shrugged, grabbing a bag as Matthew pointed down the hall. “Dad’s in his room.”

“Thanks Matthew,” Annabeth praised, ruffling his hair before setting her way down the hall.

It wasn’t too long of a walk considering the size of the apartment, making it only ten feet away at the most, but something about that walk made it the longest trek she took that day—despite the hundreds of feet she already walked in total. Turning the chipping doorknob, she squinted at the minimum light supplied from a desk in the corner of the barren room, watching as her dad focused on whatever was in front of him.

“Hey,” she spoke softly, entering the room.

He glanced up, pulling his glasses off his face to put his weariness on display. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

Annabeth shook her head, pulling an envelope out from her jacket pocket to walk into the great waterfall of light. “No, I took the day off. I got the boys some stuff.”

“I’m sure they liked it,” her father praised, rubbing his temples with the fists of his fingers. Annabeth nodded, remembering the softening of their expression before pressing the envelope down on the corner of his desk. Her father’s eyes quickly shifted to it then up again at the grey of his daughter’s. “Annabeth,” he began, letting out a sigh, “you can’t do that.”

“It’s nothing,” Annabeth reasoned, pushing the letter closer to her father.

He shook his head, running a hand through his greying hair. “Look, you put so much effort into your work. Really, I’m sure the boys and I will be fine later on, and if we’re not, we can figure something out. You don’t need to keep sacrificing yourself.”

“We’re family,” Annabeth whispered, tucking a behind her ear. “Giving up a couple thousand dollars a month is no big deal.”

“That’s a forth of your monthly paycheck,” her father advised, focusing his attention on the crisp envelope in front of him.

“I’ll get a raise sometime soon, with all the hours I’m putting in,” Annabeth assured, shifting her weight from foot to foot.

Her father met her gaze, his eyes saddened. “That’s what you said six months ago, Annabeth.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand, pushing the envelope even further so that it lay directly in front of her father. “I’m certain it’ll happen soon.” She turned on her heel, leaving her father’s room before he could attempt to hand the money back again.

“Thank you,” Frederick Chase said after a moment, his voice cracking on each work.

Her steps faltered, stopping at the doorframe with an urgent desire to turn around, yet she knew she couldn’t. He would merely attempt to return the envelope, and Annabeth had no intention of taking it back again.

It happened every month—he would try to give it back, but Annabeth simply wouldn’t have it. It tore her apart to know that Matthew and Bobby often needed to be forced to disclose what gift they hoped for on Christmas and their birthday, simply because money was often an issue. Even still, after pulling it out of them, she was certain they always made sure to express their wishes in the easiest form—giving up a piece of their joy just to keep the money around for later times. They were barely middle schoolers. That wasn’t supposed to be their worry.

“So, what did you think of the toys?” Annabeth greeted them as she reentered the living room, pushing the slight frown off her face to cover it with a happier one.

They smiled, beckoning Annabeth to sit with them as they explained their joy for their toys, school life, home life, and random television shows that they often watched. They would ask Annabeth about different books they read, forgetting the limited homework that sat in front of them which was still due tomorrow no matter what the circumstance. It was a rare occasion that they got to spend so much time with their older sister, her job being a great part of that factor, so they yearned to make the most of it—letting her ramble about different things about her work, knowing that she partially worked so hard because them. They were smart, just like their sister, and easily pieced together the reasoning behind her taking trips to visit their father, alone, every time she arrived.

They were too young, still, to completely understand the significance of it all, the reasoning behind it all. Annabeth loved them; they were her brothers. She loved sitting on the couch as they explained why one transformer was better than the other; why Matthew must have reaped the benefits of being older because he had lost more teeth than Bobby; why showers were obviously meant for young men, like they were, instead of baths; why they could no longer publicly wear the same clothes in different colors; why they loved having her for a sister.

Somewhere within the hours, Annabeth genuinely smiled, pushing Matthew’s shaggy hair off his forehead and flattening it down again before combing her fingers through it once more. It wasn’t long before Matthew fell asleep with his head across her lap, pulling his legs tightly to his chest, and Bobby leaning against her shoulder, holding onto her waist tightly. They looked so peaceful, so  _carefree_ , something she wished she could give to her brothers forever. They were already more mature due to their environment than she ever wished, yet she liked to think that fractioning each of her paychecks to help for their life savings would aid, even if it took time. They were her brothers; she loved them. She wanted to give them an easier life than she ever had, and she was willing to sacrifice her happiness for the time being.

“Seeing them like this makes it all worth it,” she whispered into the air, wishing she could at least hear the words echo back into her ears; for some reason, that would have made it feel just a tad bit better, like someone else saw all that she was doing. Like she wasn’t so  _alone_.

* * *

_“I had gotten so used to being alone, but never entirely used to it. Never used to it enough to stop wanting the alternative.” ―David Levithan, Every You, Every Me_

* * *

Percy pulled into a parking spot but didn’t yank the keys from the ignition. Craning his neck, he looked for his group of friends near the entrance to the restaurant at which they always started their group outings. As always, he saw them coupled off—Grover with his girlfriend, Juniper, Katie standing off to the side with Travis, Silena latched onto Beckendorf’s arm—and Percy couldn’t explain it; however, he simply did  _not_  feel like dealing with this today.

After high school, he and his friends had decided to stay just that: friends. Nevertheless, each time he hung out with them, he was left as the third-, fifth-, and mostly seventh—or even ninth—wheel. Percy was keenly aware of the fact that he was single: without a family on the way nor a wife, not even a  _girlfriend_ , with whom to spend his time. Keeping in touch with his friends, lately, only seemed to highlight the fact that he was doomed for eternal loneliness.

Resting his forehead on the wheel, he searched for his phone in his pocket and speed-dialed Grover. Luckily, he saw Grover wander off from the group before answering. “Hello?”

“I’m sick,” Percy lied immediately.

He watched Grover roll his eyes. “No you aren’t.”

“Correction: I’m  _single_ ,” Percy ameliorated. “Grover, I’m not doing this again.”

“Doing what?” Grover questioned, exasperatedly.

“I’m not being a tag-along-friend who is just  _there_ ,” Percy explained, “it’s not one of my hobbies, and it definitely isn’t fun.”

“You  _aren’t_ the tagalong, Perce. You’re our friend.” Percy glared at Grover, though it was in vain since he hadn’t a clue that Grover wasn’t watching his reactions. “Just come on. It’ll be fine.”

“It won’t,” Percy whined. “I just want to stay home today. I really do feel sick.” It wasn’t a lie. Percy was sick, sick of hoping for a life that seemed to never begin to come together, not even a little; it started with the marina, and that seemed infinitely impossible.

“Perce—”

“Seriously, G-man,” Percy said forcefully. “When do I ever ask you for anything?” He heard Grover sigh and saw him skim his foot over the ground. Percy knew that he had him backed into a corner.

“Fine, Perce,” Grover relented, “but you know that it won’t be the same without you.” Hearing the sad tone to his best friend’s voice, Percy felt a tinge of guilt tug at his heart.

“I won’t be missed too bad,” Percy assured him, brushing it off. “You’ll be too busy making out with Juniper, and that’s probably more fun than hanging out with me.” Grover sputtered, and Percy cracked a grin. “I’ll see you later, G-man.”

He heard Grover let out a long breath. “Alright. If you’re sure…?”

“Yeah, yeah, I am,” Percy stated. “Promise.”

* * *

_“It is better to deserve honors and not have them than to have them and not to deserve them.”— Mark Twain_

* * *

Annabeth paused faltering in her step, quickly pushing forward through the clear glass door to stand in front of her boss. He glanced up, gesturing for her to sit. “Ah, good to see you, m’dear,” he warmly welcomed her in, tossing her a fatherly smile.

She sent him one back, opting to stand in front of him instead of sitting. “You called me in?”

He nodded, closing his laptop screen to give her his full attention. “So, I must say that you have produced great work.”

“Thank you, sir,” she graciously replied, her heart quickening as a raise seemed eminent.

“Your work really is appreciated here,” he continued, shuffling a stack of papers on his desk. “I just really wanted you to know that.” She smiled, waiting to hear what else he had to say. He nodded, staring back at her, not saying anything else. “So, uh, is there anything else you needed?” he questioned, breaking the thick silence that fell over them.

Annabeth shook her head, turning on her heels as her heart plummeted to the building’s ground level. “Wait,” she turned once, meeting his surprised gaze, “who got the raise this half year?”

“Bill,” he flippantly answered, pulling his glasses from off his face.  _Bill, the guy who was half the worker she was but had a good brain for numbers._  ”Annabeth, you should know that I suggested you, but the CEOs said you didn’t need the incentive.”

“I understand,” she assured, plastering on a fake smile before leaving the office, wishing that her pace was humanly fast enough to propel her out the door.

The burn behind her eyes increased with every step. “I don’t get the raise because I work  _too_  hard.” She shook her head, quietly slamming her office door as she stood, letting, for once, weakness to overcome her as her office took on a rippled view.

* * *

_“What’s coming will come and we’ll just have to meet it when it does.”_ — _J. K. Rowling_

* * *

Annabeth was glad when she finally stepped over the threshold, since now she couldn’t leave without sacrificing her pride, something she could never do. After five minutes of awkwardly looking around as though lost, she ultimately took the five steps into the bar, pausing at the door to allow her eyes to adjust to the limited light. Her eyes didn’t give much notice to the people, chugging down beer as the roar of a crowd erupted from the TV screen nor the women daintily sipping on some fruity concoction—something which, she was certain, had to be more fruit juice than drink. Annabeth didn’t want to be either of them; she simply wanted a strong drink in which to drown her sorrows.

Taking two deep breaths, her legs led her to the front counter of the bar, sliding onto a stool next to a man with dark, shaggy hair. For some reason, her heart started beating a mile a minute—something it shouldn’t do, for what she was going certainly wasn’t illegal; she was newly twenty-two after all. The man next to her gave a quick glance from the corner of his eye, making some noise of indignation before wallowing again in his drink.

“Excuse me?” Annabeth questioned, not sure why the words simply tumbled out of her mouth. He barely turned his head, only enough so as to see her profile. She said nothing then, never planning what to say after those words; she simply was tired of being looked over—surpassed for whatever reason the viewer gave.

“I didn’t say anything,” the man replied simply, raising an arm to flag the bartender down. Apparently, they were well acquainted, since the bartender nodded to him without the brooding man next to her saying a word. He drummed his hands lightly on the table while he waited for his drink.

“Oh, alright,” she answered, not expecting the man to even utter a word in her direction. The words  _I’m sorry_  seared behind her eyes, yet she certainly had no plans to give up her pride that easily—especially not with a comment that was borderline sassy. “Uh, do you come here often?”

“Obviously you don’t because bar conversations aren’t exactly your forte.” He turned to face her fully, and Annabeth glanced away. “Are you even legal?”

Annabeth wasn’t sure whether she should be flattered, since he was telling her that she appeared to be young, or slap him because his tone insinuated that it was far from a compliment. “I am,” she replied, barely restraining herself from scoffing.

“When’s the last time you checked?” the man questioned cheekily, flashing her a smirk as if he told the best joke in the world.

Annabeth did scoff this time, rolling her eyes. “I just turned twenty-two, mind you, and if this is what you consider a good bar conversation, I’m thankful that I’m not well-versed in said area.”

He chuckled, shaking his head at her words. “So, you’re smart, too then. What do you say you take over my job?” He puffed his chest, putting on an air. “Make my father proud.”

“Does it pay well?” Annabeth joked with a hint of seriousness, deciding to go along with his line of conversation as the bartender took his time approaching.

“Better than the marina,” he muttered sullenly, nodding gratefully as the bartender slid a drink into his hand. “One screwdriver on the rocks for the legal lady, too.”

“I can order for myself,” Annabeth reprimanded, glancing towards the bartender who curiously raised an eyebrow, halting mid pour.

“Give her a screwdriver, Nico,” he enjoined again, shooting Annabeth a look which challenged her to declare otherwise.

“Dammit, Percy,” Nico gruffly grumbled, setting his dark eyes between the two of them, “I have other customers. Screwdriver or no screwdriver?”

“Percy,” Annabeth mumbled under her breath, testing the sound of his name on her lips. “Screwdriver,” she decided, never having taken the time to actually choose what she wanted anyways. Besides, she knew better than to test the limits of a bartender.

“Great,” Nico grunted, resuming his task of pouring the drink. He slid it across the bar to Annabeth, giving a parting nod to Percy and leaving to tend to other customers.

“He seems lovely,” Annabeth muttered, evoking a full-hearted laugh from Percy as the bartender, by the name of Nico, sulked over to another table.

“He is,” Percy agreed, “after you get to know him. Just a bit… dark.”

“Angry,” Annabeth added. Her eyes followed Percy’s actions as he quickly downed the drink minus a few sips, only wincing slightly.

“Isn’t everyone?” Percy countered. “Isn’t that why we’re all here tonight?”

“I’m not  _angry_ , Percy,” Annabeth answered, stirring the straw in her drink as she pulled her gaze away from him, staring into the light orange, almost yellow, liquid.

“Hah, so you know my name,” he commented, bringing his glass to his lips with the distinct sound of teeth hitting the edge. “So, legal non-girl whose name I still don’t know, what  _are_  you?”

“Not drunk enough.” This elicited a laugh from Percy, and Annabeth smiled despite herself. He clumsily spun his rapidly emptying glass between his hands. “Bad day, I guess.”

“Ditto,” Percy sympathized, hopping over the bar’s counter. “If the police come, give me the signal,” he joked, grabbing two glasses and heading towards the shelves of drinks.

Annabeth’s eyes widened comically; she may not have gone to bars on a daily basis, hell not even a monthly basis, but she was pretty sure that was  _not_  permitted. “Percy,” she hissed.

“What, are they here already?” Percy questioned, turning his head carelessly and shrugging. “Eh, wouldn’t be the first time. Hm, what are you feeling? I’m thinking another one of those babies,” Percy paused to point at his glass, only holding ice cubes. “It was good.”

“How many have you had?” Annabeth asked, glancing around nervously. Nobody seemed to be paying them any amount of attention, but it didn’t abate her apprehension.

“Enough to make me want another,” he evasively replied, grabbing a bottle of Grey Goose and a carton of orange juice from a nearby fridge. He danced for a second, bobbing his head to no apparent beat as he set his collection of items on the counter. With practiced ease, as though he repeated the action everyday, Percy mixed two more screwdrivers, leveling out the drinks in equal amounts. He started humming something—which sounded dangerously close to Miley Cyrus’s “Party In the USA”—and passed her one of the cool glasses. “Want to hand me my stool?”

“I’m not lifting your stool over the bar counter,” Annabeth denied, pressing her hands firmly against her chilled glass.

He shrugged, a lopsided grin covering his lips. “That’s cool. I guess I’ll just use the one that’s back here.”

“Percy!” Nico snapped, finally noticing his presence behind the counter. He gave Percy an obvious look, gesturing to the other side of the bar counter.

“What?” he questioned, covering the smirk with a stern expression. “I wanted my warm stool!”

“You’re lucky I even allow you in my bar,” Nico grimaced, refilling a small bowl with peanuts.

Percy chuckled, taking a swig of his drink. He sighed, as though refreshed by the alcoholic beverage, shooting Nico a smile. “You’d go bankrupt if you didn’t.”

“You come here that often?” Annabeth inquired, watching as Percy made an obscene gesture towards Nico who merely made the same one back with a grin.  _So he does smile_ , Annabeth internally remarked, wondering if Percy often made his friends smile with his antics.

“Go to the other side,” Nico ordered, not unkindly, a ghost of a smile still playing at his lips. Percy pouted childishly, and Nico shook his head. “None of that. Go on.”

“Whatever,  _Mom_ ,” Percy tossed back, sighing forlornly as he pushed himself up onto the counter, sliding himself across with ease. It took him a moment to balance himself when his feet hit the ground, but he managed to sit down without any injuries.

“You have an affinity for trouble,” Annabeth remarked, thankful when Percy completely settled himself back on his stool. Finally, she took a hesitant sip of her drink, scrunching up her nose, but swallowing it nonetheless.

Percy dismissed the commentary, having heard it much too often for his own liking. “Trouble finds me.”

“I doubt getting drunk helps,” she commented, putting her drink to her lips as a second one sat nearby, waiting to trail down her throat.

“Says the girl, or should I say  _young lady_ , who said before that she wasn’t drunk enough,” he jibed, flicking his finger against her second glass.

Annabeth pushed her lips to the side of her face, regretting those words as much now as she later would in the morning. “Like you said, it was a rough day.”

“Getting drunk to take the pain away, my kind of girl,” Percy noted, smiling stupidly. His green eyes glinted, and Annabeth wasn’t sure if it was natural or one of the effects of his alcohol consumption.

“I’m married to my job,” Annabeth forewarned, swallowing the remainder of her first drink so as to prevent herself from saying anything more.

His smile transformed into a smirk, twisting his glass in his hand. “Yeah and I’m waiting to get a divorce from mine. Unfortunately, my father will never let it go through when he finds out about it.”

“Daddy issues?” Annabeth teased, trying for a light conversation and hoping to redirect the attention from herself.

“Not your normal kind,” Percy stated, shutting his lips together tightly. “Look, I doubt you came to a bar to hear about my troubles, so I’ll stop now.” His mood quickly changed from joking to depressed, the spinning of his glass picking up in pace.

Annabeth wasn’t sure if she really wanted to say her next words, but alcohol worked miracles in damaging filters. “I don’t mind,” she divulged. “I’m a novice, but I’m guessing bar conversations also include a lot of ranting as well as sitting in a circle, holding hands, and singing Kumbaya.”

Percy grinned, giving a breathy laugh. “Oh, of course,” he easily quipped. “There’s nothing to rant about, really.”

“What’d your dad do?” Annabeth pried. On any other day, she wouldn’t, but she could tell that Percy wanted to release his problems to anyone who would listen. She had a feeling that he tended to keep all negative emotions locked away in his brain for some other time when he could sulk without being in the presence of people. “Try me. I don’t care how agrestic they are.”

Percy let out a long breath, knocked back the rest of his drink, and said, “He told me I can’t work at the marina, without using so many words.”

_That explains the ‘marina’ bit,_  Annabeth noted internally. “Oh?”

“Actually, he used even more words. All he had to do was go on and on about how proud he was of having his son working with him, how it was every father’s dream. Yeah, I’d be a great son if I completely demolished his dream, wouldn’t I? I need another drink,” Percy muttered, considering jumping over the counter but deciding not to do so. “Nico!” he yelled freely. “I want a drink!”

Annabeth’s eyes skittered over the bar, looking for the brooding boy and found him glaring at Percy. Not wanting to bother the bartender,  _again_ , she waved him off. “Here, take my second,” she quickly supplied, earning a grateful nod from Nico.

“Thank you!” Percy haphazardly grabbed the drink, his fingertips momentarily brushing against Annabeth’s. She pulled her hand back quickly, gripping the edge of the counter, silently cursing her reaction. “You okay there?”

“I’m fine,” Annabeth replied. “Just dizzy.”

Percy grinned dopily. “That’s what happens when you get drunk, sweetheart.”

Annabeth wasn’t exactly ecstatic about the pet name, but she figured— _hoped_ —that she wouldn’t remember any of it tomorrow. Smiling to herself, she spared Percy a glance. He was swirling his drink and staring into it as though it held all of the answers one could ever desire. “Never use that nickname again unless you want to sound like a drunk bastard from the Hunger Games.”

“You have the mouth of a sailor,” he observed, watching as her lips curled into a full-on smile.

“Then you should love me,” Annabeth quipped, “since you want to work at the marina, and all.”

He smirked, chuckling ever-so-slightly. “Either I’m drunk, or I’m pretty close.” Percy paused, furrowing his eyebrows together as his words replayed in his head. “Or, I’m pretty close to loving you,” he amended, deciding that it sounded much better that way.

“You’re drunk,” Annabeth assured him, definitely  _not_  blushing.

“A wise woman once said, ‘I’m not drunk enough,’” Percy answered, sending her a look. “I agree with her.”

“Wise makes me sound old.” Regardless, she straightened her posture at the compliment—or what she was assuming was a compliment, anyways.

Percy laid face down on the counter, turning to face Annabeth. “You’re young and wise. Double threat.” He snuggled against the counter as though it was a warm, soft pillow. “Plus, you’re pretty, so there’s the triple threat.”

“You’re drunk,” Annabeth repeated, glancing around for Nico in an attempt to drown her embarrassment with a drink. She tapped her nails on the counter twice, biting her lip as she strained her neck to find someone,  _anyone_ , to get her that drink.

He shrugged, deciding not to argue with it in his inebriated state. “Doesn’t make you any less pretty. Young, pretty, and wise. Pretty young wise. Wise pretty young. Pretty young thing. You got that, young wise pre—”

“Where’s Nico…?” Annabeth grumbled, looking around as a distraction from the conversation.

“Nico!” Percy howled, not even lifting his head from off the counter. “The lady wants a screwdriver! She isn’t drunk enough, yet.”

As though melting from out of the shadows, Nico materialized in front of her. She blamed her slow, buzzed mind on the intoxicant; still, it was a nice change of pace. “Another?” he questioned, already gathering the necessary ingredients. She nodded, glancing towards her dark-haired counterpart who met her eyes with an intense gaze. “Flavored water for Percy.”

“Ew,” Percy commented, scrunching his nose up and looking almost  _too_  similar to a disgruntled cat, “I only like coffee-flavored water.”

“That’s what’s disgusting,” Annabeth objected, accepting her second drink from Nico with a muttered phrase expressing her gratitude. “It tastes like cardboard.” He tossed her a third one for good measure.

Percy shook his head, pushing his hair from off his forehead. “No, it’s not! Don’t argue with me, sweetheart. I want orange juice.”

“Orange juice?”

“No wait,” Percy shook his head, seemingly attempting to sober up for a second. “Actually, I want coffee-flavored juice from Oranges.”

“Oranges?” Annabeth repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I want it from Oranges,” Percy reiterated, grinning towards Nico who slid a mug of spiked coffee in his direction. This was common; after having consumed a tad bit more alcohol than he should have, Percy named his favorite coffee place Oranges, deciding it was much easier, and funnier, to say.

“Is that a place?”

He nodded, bringing the mug towards his lips. “Yeah, yeah, it’s really Opha’s Wrangling Salon,” he said with complete seriousness, letting the tangy coffee slip down his throat.

“Wait, do you mean Ophelia’s Raging Saloon?” Annabeth asked, attempting to decipher the drunken words that Percy spoke.

“Same difference,” Percy answered, waving his hand to brush it off but ending up swaying his hand through the air in a fascinated manner. “My hand is flying,” he proclaimed, carrying on to have his hand hit the counter in a nose dive. “Bad pilot.” Annabeth stared blankly at Percy for a few moments before snorting in laughter. “This isn’t funny!” Percy shouted, eyes wide. “People  _died_ , you heartless monster.” This only fueled Annabeth’s laughter to the point that tears were nearly falling from her eyes. “Wait!” Percy said, so serious that Annabeth stopped her drunken giggles and looked at him.

“What?” she questioned, eyes searching his face.

“I don’t know your name,” Percy declared, eyes wide. “I’ve been being friends with a stranger for, like, three-hundred hours!”

“Actually, that would be… twelve and a half days. I can assure you that it hasn’t been  _that_  long,” Annabeth corrected, the numbers running in her head slower than usual.

“It feels like forever!” Percy sang.

“That’s not a song,” Annabeth deadpanned.

“It is because I sang it,” Percy countered, sticking his tongue out. “What’s your name? You still haven’t told me.”

“Annabeth,” she replied, wishing her bar stool was one of the ones that could spin. She thought about attempting it but decided it wouldn’t be worth the embarrassment.

“Annabeth,” Percy repeated. “Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth, Annabeth. I want to remember that tomorrow, so I’m going to say it a lot. Annabeth… Annabeth, Annabeth.”

“You won’t be remembering anything,” she disagreed. “Not my name, much less your own.”

Percy opened his mouth to reply, but stopped and slid his hand into his pocket, plucking a sleek black iPhone out. He glanced at the screen, squinting for a few moments and trying desperately to decipher the name. After he made out three letters (D-A-D), he scowled and clicked ignore.

“Who was it?” Annabeth inquired, her nosy side showing.

“Dad,” Percy grumbled sullenly, downing the rest of his coffee.

“What happened between you two?” She had asked the question several times throughout the night, but this was the first time that Percy seemed down enough—or  _drunk enough_ , rather—to share.

“He wants me to be like him. Work with  _computersandbusinessand_  money,” Percy slurred, obviously trying to keep his indecipherable words to a minimum, “but I like the water.”

“The marina,” Annabeth added, almost giggling at the fact that his hair was sticking up in several directions.

“Yep,” Percy said quickly. “And he got  _so_  mad at me for that, because ‘parently I won’t make enough money. But I said,” Percy continued, raising a hand and pointing at the racks of drinks in front of them, “‘Giving up a couple thousand dollars a month is no big deal.’” Percy rolled his eyes and pushed his hair out of his face. “So stupid,” he muttered, drawing a picture with his hand on the counter.

“You’re… You’re joking,” Annabeth sputtered, the words tugging at a conversation she constantly seemed to have with her own father granted the parameters were different.

“Hah,” Percy spat out, tapping his mug against the bar counter, “wish is what it is. I just wanna do what I want, y’know?”

“Not exactly,” Annabeth murmured, bringing the tangy drink to her lips, hesitating before she let it spill down her throat.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing towards said brow with his eyes before finally getting out, “‘Nuff ‘bout my problems. Why are you here?”

“I was all stressed,” Annabeth explained, starting on her third drink.

“Why?”

“‘Cause,” Annabeth answered with a shrug. “Work stuff.”

“S’not fair!” Percy accused. “I told you about my work stuff.”

“I’m here for fun, Percy,” she deadpanned, hoping that it would sidetrack him enough to relocate the conversation. Instead, his green eyes with flecks of blue continued to bore into her grey, forcing her to take another sip of her drink, regretting it immediately as the acid burned her throat. “Not everyone has been blessed with a job like yours.”

“I’m not blessed,” he corrected, leaning his head against the palm of his hand.

She raised an eyebrow, spinning the straw in her glass. “You probably make more than my entire, yearly salary in a month.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “No idea but I’d get ridda all of it just to be on the water.”

“You’re insane,” Annabeth commented, not believing that someone could take all of that money in vain.

“I’m miserable,” he amended, gesturing towards the glasses in front of him. “Probably you too are.”

“I’m actually having a good time.” Percy whipped his head towards her, seemingly off balance for a second as he blinked. He gave her a doting grin, and Annabeth couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m the life of the party, so my friends are probably miserable right now, too,” Percy threw out, sending her the gesture of a handgun before resting his chin on his hand again. “They’re having some dumb couples outing without sayin’ you have to be a couple to go but everyone is a couple so here I am not being a couple not being the bagillionth wheel and not going out with them,” he merged together, not taking a single breath in between the words. “In life.”

“In life?” she repeated for clarification, stowing away the former information for a later date, if it ever came.

He nodded once, tapping his fingers against his chin. “Are you havin’ a good time in life?”

“I’m having a better time here,” Annabeth stated, busying herself with the action of brushing invisible crumbs off of her jeans so that she didn’t reach out and perfect Percy’s unkempt hair.

“Stop avoiding the question,” he demanded, slamming his hand against the counter for added effect. “I’ll feel like shit if you don’t tell me anythin’, and I unload everything onto you.” He cracked a grin, assuring Annabeth that he wasn’t actually mad. “I’ll feel like shittier shit.”

“Life is life,” Annabeth returned, answering his initial question. “It just  _is_ , I guess. Not really great, not really bad.”

“But why are you here, Annabeth, Anna, Annie, Beth?” Percy smiled at all the names he was more or less butchering through his inebriated speech.

She scowled at the nicknames, but decided to pay them no attention. She looked to Percy, and he probably tried to raise an eyebrow but ended up blinking a lot and appearing confused. Curiosity was showing on his face, unguarded, and Annabeth briefly wondered how someone could be so blatant with their emotions. “I didn’t get the raise,” she found herself saying, instantly looking away from his eyes and staring into her almost empty glass. “I worked my ass off, every single day, putting my family life on hold, and yet, I still don’t get the raise.”

“Maybe next time?” Percy suggested, never having been in her situation.

“Hah,” she scoffed, pushing her glass away from her, thankful that it didn’t slide off the counter and onto the floor, “that’s what I said six months ago and the year before that.  _Maybe next time, Annabeth; it just_ has _to be you._ ”

“‘M sorry,” he said earnestly. “They’re stupid for not giving it to you, triple threat and all.”

Annabeth managed a smile. “Thanks.”

“Welcome,” Percy replied. “I mean it.” Annabeth nodded, and Percy gave her a charming smile. “Now tell me, are you single?” He teased, wanting to lighten up the mood, noticing her obvious discomfort with the topic of conversation even through his intoxicated state.

“What part of married to my job did you not get?” she snarked, forcing the smile from off her lips which threatened to reappear.

He nodded, seeming to be in deep thought. “So, you’re taken.”

“Hilarious,” she stated in a monotone, keenly aware of Percy’s attempts to lighten the mood; she was thankful nonetheless. “There’s this Greek myth,” Annabeth found herself saying, not sure as to why the words spilled so easily from her lips, “about soulmates. I’m not sure if I believe it or not…”

“So you believe it,” he corrected, watching her intently.

She sent him a look, sighing as he didn’t react. “Yeah, I believe it. It’s stupid, but basically, to give an extremely condensed version, everyone has a soulmate out there.”

“Why do you not sound drunk?” Percy questioned, a slight slur still to his words.

“Trust me, you don’t want to even  _hear_  my thoughts,” Annabeth appeased, knowing that her thoughts would uncover just how intoxicated she truly was.

He barely smiled, redirecting his redirection. “So, everyone has a person out there for them.”

“Apparently,” Annabeth affirmed.

“I haven’t found mine.”

“Me either,” Annabeth sympathized, with a sigh.

“So you  _are_  single?” Percy noted, smiling. “Good to know.”

“You’re an idiot,” she chuckled, tossing a wad of cash from out of her pocket and onto the counter.

“You’re pretty,” Percy shot back. “So, ‘scuse me for wondering if a—where are you going?” He seemed to have just caught up with the fact that Annabeth left money on the counter, a sure signal for leaving.

“It’s getting late, and I doubt another drink will make it easier for me to get up in the morning,” she contested, reaching behind her for a nonexistent jacket which already sat on her shoulders.

“I’ll walk you out,” Percy offered immediately. Drunk or sober, he was still a gentleman. He pulled his wallet out and dropped quite a few bills on the counter, figuring Nico would work it out for him later. Plus, leaving a few extra bills would probably make up for his drunken behavior.

“That’s unnecessary,” she dismissed, sliding off her stool to wobble uncertainly.

“I won’t sleep tonight if I don’t know that you’re safe,” Percy argued, “or we could both not sleep at all… if you fall. I’m going with you.” He stood up, adjusting his jacket and finally fixing his hair.

Annabeth took a step, almost twisting her ankle on the down trod. She sighed, knowing that there was absolutely no way she could possibly argue with the dark haired man who remained next to her. Percy caught her, leaving his arm around her. “What would you do without me?”

“I’d probably be at home and much more sober,” she mused, hesitantly resting her hand on the small of his back.

They stumbled out of the bar, his arm wrapped tightly around Annabeth’s slender waist. When she protested, he claimed that he did not want to risk her slipping nor himself. Nevertheless, a smile inched across his face as the slight scent of lemons wafted up his nose. He usually loved fruity smells, and this was one of those times; that or he simply loved acidic smells in his drunken state.

“Number?” Percy questioned once they carefully positioned themselves outside of the Infinite Cross, whipping their arms into the air in an attempt to stop a taxi.

Annabeth shook her head, the alcohol disabling her from shaking it in a controlled manner. “Nah, uh, not gonna happen. I don’t even  _know_  you,” she barely got out as the vodka began to kick in, her hair falling in ringlets onto her face.

Percy grinned, tightening his hold on her waist as she re-balanced herself with a couple steps. “You’res’cute,” he slurred his thoughts, not certain when the voice inside his head ever sounded so loud. Annabeth merely smiled, a red tint taking its place on her cheeks. “Here,” he muttered, turning to face her head-on as he haphazardly tucked the curls back behind her ears.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, flattening her bangs behind her ear while meeting the sea green eyes of the man who loomed over her.

He nodded, letting his hand cover her cheek before it slowly meandered down her arm until it found a place on her waist. “Number?”

She smiled at his boy-like persistence, pushing a stray piece of hair off his forehead. “Maybe when you get a haircut,” she teased, pulling lightly on the shaggy ends before letting her hand rest on his shoulder.

He frowned, wondering how he could ever leave her without getting her number. “So, no number?” Annabeth chuckled, forcing a lopsided grin on Percy’s face before he dropped his forehead to rest on hers—his head was feeling awfully heavy, and his attraction to her was ever increasing. “Does that mean yes, number?”

She barely shook her head, glancing up into the sea green eyes that were less than inch from her. A light chuckle fluttered from her lips, brushing warm air with a hint of tangy alcohol against his. His lips pouted slightly, lessening the distance between them as he sighed. He was tantalizing, yet Annabeth was certain he didn’t even know it.

Boldly—Annabeth would later be convinced it had something to do with her excessive intake of alcohol when the memory became clear—she leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his. She had meant for it to be quick, a small goodbye with somewhat of a thank you, but Percy deepened the kiss and splayed his left hand on the small of her back to pull her closer. Overheated from the alcohol, she wasn’t sure if she was blushing, but she surely felt embarrassed. Here she was, outside of a  _bar_ , kissing a man she had only met a few hours prior.

It didn’t really stop her from tightening her arms around his neck and poorly attempting to make the moment infinite—she was much too drunk to capture the moment clearly and store it away into her memory, saving it for a rainy day. She felt Percy smile against her lips, and she was startled by the fact that she knew exactly what sort of smile he was smiling; Annabeth had never known that she could come to know someone so thoroughly over the time period of a few hours, mostly spent intoxicated. It was a content smile, she catalogued, storing it in a mental folder to remember that feeling on her most depressed of days.

She wasn’t use to this—kissing in such a fashion that their lips seemed to meld together. A certain fire erupted in her veins, one that she could not attribute to the burning alcohol that previously tumbled down her throat. A passing, coherent thought flitted into her brain, wondering if Percy felt that feeling too—she was certain he had, or at least hoped as much, when he pulled her flush against him, running his tongue along her bottom lip. Something about this, the placement, the setting, their incoherence, felt simply wrong, yet it lay in the area of ignorant bliss as Annabeth allowed her tongue to brush against his lips.

A honk. The honk of an impatient taxi next to her (when  _did_  that get there?) forced Annabeth to press her hands against Percy’s chest, pulling back and gripping Percy’s jacket to steady herself. He laughed, shaking his head at her, and pressed one last kiss to her lips. He released Annabeth from his tight grasp (he would later blame his drunken mind; after all, he was more affectionate when wasted) and opened the taxi door for her. He felt sober now—or well, more sober than he previously felt—minus the odd feeling of his brain turning to mush. Percy wasn’t entirely positive if it was from kissing her or from the fact that he was still fairly drunk, despite the artificial feeling of sobriety. His hand finally pressed against the cool, cab handle as he waited for Annabeth to get in, and he turned to see that she had not moved at all.

“You coming?” he questioned, zoning out the taxi driver’s complaints.

Annabeth shook her head, crossing her arms. “I don’t think it’s a good idea that we ride in the same cab.”

“I’m not a stalker,” Percy assured, leaning against the door of the cab.

She chuckled, taking two steps forward and halting again. “I figured that much out already,” she responded, holding her elbows with opposite hands. “I just don’t think that it would be a good idea that we ride together…” Annabeth trailed off, insinuating what it might lead to in the end.

“Oh?” Percy questioned, running a hand through his hair.

Annabeth rolled her eyes, knowing that he obviously was not following. “I don’t do one-night stands, Percy.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth affirmed, pursing her lips.

“I wasn’t thinking that,” he finally clarified, seemingly able to form coherent sentences with his words. “I just figured we could save on the cab fare…” Annabeth nodded, not budging. “Um, here,” he leaned into the cab, pulling out a wad of cash and handing it to the driver. “You can take this cab. It’s on me,” Percy stated once he resurfaced from the cab.

“I can pay for myself,” Annabeth chastised despite the empty feeling in her pockets as change merely jingled inside them.

He shrugged, moving away from the cab door. “So, if we’re not exchanging numbers, how will we meet again?” He paused, rubbing his hand against his neck to make use of his awkwardness. “I mean, I want to meet you again, but I guess it’s cool if you don’t want to meet me.”

She smiled at his rambling, moving cautiously towards the cab. “We’ll meet here, tomorrow, at nine p.m. on the dot,” Annabeth instructed, only a step away from the cab door. “Assuming we’re supposed to meet, we can go from there tomorrow.”

He nodded, tilting his head to the side. “So, you’re not going to write your number on some dollar bill and make me wait years until I find it? Or write it in a book that I check for at every store?”

“A chick flick, really?” she questioned, amused with his obvious taste in movies. He merely shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “I think this has better odds of happening than going the  _Serendipity_  route.”

“Nine it is, then,” Percy affirmed, watching as she sat herself into the taxi, giving directions to the driver. “Are you sure that’s soon enough?” His innermost longing to be around her forced the words from his mouth.

Annabeth shrugged, seemingly not certain if it was or wasn’t. “We’ll have to hope it is,” were the last words she said before closing the door and letting the taxi take off down the road.

Percy’s eyes followed the vehicle until it was out of sight, turning down a road which would probably bring her one step closer to her house. He shook his head, earlier words replaying in his head about love and how it must have happened to everyone. They were both single. They both believed in soulmates. So maybe they could help each other in one way or another. He certainly had no issue with that. The sooner, the better.

“Nine it is then,” Percy repeated under his breath, stepping to the curb to hail his own cab.

Maybe, hopefully, soon was in their futures.

* * *

_“I found, when I left, that there were others who felt the same way. We’d meet, they’d come and seek me out, we’d talk about the future. And I found that their depression and pessimism was every bit as acute as mine.” —Wole Soyinka_

* * *

Percy grinned as he entered the bar to see Annabeth sitting in the same spot she had yesterday. Worriedly, he pulled out his phone, only to see that it was 8:59 PM and that he wasn’t late to their meeting. He stopped mid-step, worrying at his lip. She was gorgeous last night, even through his drunken haze, but now, seeing her with a clear mind was almost overwhelming. He had gathered that Annabeth was a perfectionist, but Percy knew that she didn’t need to even try. She was already perfect, by nature.

Taking a deep breath, and hoping that he didn’t embarrass himself too horribly last night, he approached her. “Hey,” Percy said simply, sliding into his seat.

“Hi,” Annabeth returned, not choosing to say anything further.

“Are you really here?” Percy asked incredulously, smiling at her.

She scowled. “Shut up.”

“Still cute,” Percy added, “even when you’re being rude.” The conversation lulled when she sent him a pointed glare, and Annabeth stirred what appeared to be a normal Coke. Percy stared, and Annabeth took a sip of her drink, seeming to not notice his constant attention. “We meet again,” Percy stated unnecessarily.

“Seems so,” Annabeth affirmed nonchalantly.

“Do I get your number this time?” he questioned blatantly. After all, he had surely embarrassed himself enough last night that anything he did now wouldn’t necessarily matter.

She smiled. “There’s a chance.”

Percy raised his eyebrows. “You’re hard to get.”

“Are you insinuating that you’re trying to ‘get’ me, Percy?” Annabeth quipped, looking at him expectantly.

“Taking into account what I remember from last night,” Percy started, “I’m thinking I already did, in a way. Hyperactive imagination, sweetheart, or did we make-out last night?”

Annabeth was tempted to say,  _“completely hyperactive imagination_.” However, she nodded, coughing a bit. “Yeah. We did.”

“I’ll have to remember this,” Percy remarked, tossing her a cheeky grin.

She rolled her eyes. “Why?”

He smirked, never thinking that she would ask the question that he so desperately desired to hear; already, Percy had planned the perfect response to such a question, never knowing anyone to give a more charming one. He was genuinely more charming opposed to goofy when sober. “When you tell our grandchildren not to get drunk at a bar, I’ll wink and whisper this story to them.”

* * *

_Without a single thought, two hands collide and the world finally makes sense again. —Kayla Dawn_

* * *

Annabeth smiled as Percy recounted to her a myriad of stories about himself as a child—his love for blue food; his cousin forcing him to watch chick flicks as a punishment; his spirited love of water. Her train of thought couldn’t help but drift to the possibility of seeing him like this on a regular basis—his boyish charm of which he seemed unaware; his cheeky grin whenever he made a thought out comment; his shaggy hair which was in dire need of a trim; his deep voice that calmed her nerves yet made her heart beat a mile a minute; his eyes, the last to be noted but the first remembered, which met her gaze with such intensity that she was certain he saw through her thickest of barriers. The bar atmosphere did nothing to add to the light feeling that Annabeth felt, barely even having taken a sip of her drink; she didn’t need it this time. She wanted to remain sober.

“Look,” Percy began, his tone changing into something more serious, “let’s not make me feel like shit once again because you tell me absolutely nothing.”

She rolled her eyes, spinning her straw in her drink, wanting to be sober this time so as to have an articulate remembrance of each passing event this night—the specific shades of green that rippled across his eyes when his mood changed and the way his eyes lit up whenever a phrase exuded a laugh. “You have such a way with words.”

“That’s exactly why I plan to become a writer,” he sassed, poking her side in an attempt to get her to talk. She merely wriggled in her seat, not enjoying the ticklish sensation that fled from his well-placed poke.

“What do you want to know about my childhood?” she questioned, deciding that she might as well disclose a little bit to even out the pace.

He grinned, leaning his chin on his palm like he did once before. “Everything,” he easily replied, a serious edge to his tone despite the smile on his lips.

“We don’t have that much time,” she pointed out, sorting in her head the different stories that she could possibly tell him.

Percy cocked his head to the side, seeming to do so in a challenging manner. “We do if we have a lifetime.”

* * *

_“Alcohol gives you infinite patience for stupidity.” —Sammy Davis, Jr._

* * *

“5-8-9-3,” Annabeth repeated, for the third time, as Percy clumsily tapped the numbers into his phone. They weren’t drunk again, simply buzzed, but Percy was clumsy naturally and even more so under the influence of alcohol.

“5-9-8-3,” Percy read off of his screen. “Right? That’s the last four.”

“No,” Annabeth said, laughing. She latched onto the hem of his shirt and Percy started when her knuckles brushed his hip. “3-9-8-5.” His head shot up in indignation, evoking a laugh from Annabeth that warmed his heart. “Joking, it’s 5-8-9-3.” He chuckled, backspacing and typing the number again.

“5-9-8-3,” he repeated with a grin, speaking again when Annabeth’s mouth hastily opened, “5…8…9…3 it is.”

“There you go,” Annabeth said with a smile.

“And you have mine, right?” Percy questioned, just to make sure. She nodded dutifully. “Now remember, it’s extra sexy when a girl texts you twenty-four-seven.”

“In your dreams.”

“Probably.”

* * *

_“The story of life is quicker than the wink of an eye, the story of love is hello and goodbye…until we meet again.”― Jimi Hendrix_

* * *

Annabeth frowned, wishing she didn’t have to say what she was about to utter. “I really should go home,” she mumbled, tucking a curl behind her ear.

She glanced up to catch the tail-end of Percy’s frown, wishing she could trust herself to spend more time with him. “So, separate cabs again, I’m guessing?”

She nodded, biting the corner of lip as he hailed another cab for her. “We’ll talk later, though?”

He sent her a grin, awakening the dusty butterflies that lay in Annabeth’s stomach. It was an awfully nice feeling, to be able to feel that discomfort and nervousness once over again. “O’course we will,” he assured, the cab approaching quicker this time than last.

Annabeth cracked a smile, stepping forward to press her lips to Percy’s. It was short this time, something that she would account to not wanting to risk breaking her rule of  _waiting_  before she  _did_  something like  _that_. “I told you this was a lot better than  _Serendipity_ ,” she remarked, taking a few steps back as great space between them could do nothing but help.

“Yeah,” he stated, opening the taxi door for her once again, “I got to skip out on the part where I see you doing…” he paused, shufflingly awkwardly on his heels, “see you doing…  _it_  through the window.”

“Have I told you you’re an idiot?” She questioned, slipping into the seat of the cab as Percy leaned over her to pay for her fare once again. Despite the fact that she protested, she secretly enjoyed how he paid for her each and every time.

He grinned, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “So many times that it’s starting to sound like a compliment.”

.: : :.

Percy jumped at the vague sound of his doorbell ringing, wiping the sleep from his eyes; it was almost nine. He needed to go.

.: : :.

Annabeth jolted at the familiar noise of an incoming email, knowing it was waiting for her to open it; it was nearing nine. She needed to go.

.: : :.

Percy tripped over his shoelaces twice, luckily not falling over, before finally approaching the door. Apathetic to the usual, there was a tall, gangly man—the muscles in his arms not adding up to his overall physique—standing in front of the entrance. “H-Hi,” Percy gasped, catching his breath. “I need to get in there.”

“Name?” the man—Percy recognized him now as Tobias—commanded.

“Seriously, Tobe?” he questioned, not believing that the bouncer really had to ask him.

Tobias shrugged, nodding his head towards the entrance. “Just doing my job, Perce.”

“Since when is there a bouncer at the  _bar_?” Percy snapped, smoothing out his shirt.

Tobias raised an eyebrow. “Since someone rented it out for a party, which officially started about five minutes ago.”

“Oh,” Percy said, “oh, that’s just great. I need to get in, though, and who the hell starts a party at 9:15?”

Tobias sighed, glancing around as though someone were going to jump out of the shadows and fire him. “Fine. But don’t cause any trouble. That includes asking who starts a party at 9:15, Perce.” He pushed open the door, and Percy was met with loud cheering; from the looks of it, there was some semblance of a strip tease going on.

Percy paid no attention to the amateur stripper, making a beeline for the counter. He looked for Annabeth, in  _their_  seats, but they were filled with two corpulent women, sipping on blue drinks. Percy groaned in annoyance under his breath, quickly casting his eyes around the bar. After his search for curly, blonde hair and grey eyes left him fruitless, Percy looked behind the counter. “Nico,” he muttered to himself. “Where are you?”

Out of nowhere, Nico popped up right in front of him. Percy nearly jumped out of his skin and stared wide-eyed at him. “Are you okay?” Nico wearily questioned with a ghostly amusement.

“How did you get there?” Percy managed, still trying to calm his heartbeat, still in overdrive from the nerves of meeting Annabeth and Nico manifesting before his eyes.

“I shadow traveled,” he answered, not even attempting to say it with any form of sarcasm. “I stood up,” Nico deadpanned, “exciting, right?”

Percy stared at his friend, seriously wondering  _how in the world_  he met these people. “Have you seen Annabeth?”

“Not since last night when you two were  _all_  over each other,” Nico grumbled. “And, it didn’t help that you were drunk off your ass, making my boss question my employment.”

“She’s not here?” Percy pressed, relentlessly glancing around. “Are you sure you haven’t seen her? And really? You own the damn bar, Nico.”

“Details, details,” Nico replied, flicking his wrist to the side as he mixed a colorful drink. “Speaking of details, I haven’t seen her.” Percy cursed something just as colorful as the drink Nico was formulating. “Were you guys supposed to meet or something?”

“At nine,” Percy confessed, dropping his face to the counter. It wasn’t a smart move, seeing as they probably hadn’t been cleaned all day.

“You’re twenty minutes late,” Nico stated unnecessarily.

“I know,” Percy growled.

“Just call her and explain,” he advised. “She’ll forgive you.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Percy snapped, “if I had her number.”

“You guys were going at it last night,” Nico said amusedly, “and you neglected to get her number?”

“You watched us?” Percy inquired accusingly. “You little creep!”

Nico sauntered down the bar, passing the drink to a girl who looked beyond college-girl-wasted. “It was in plain sight, right through the window.”

“She wouldn’t give me her number,” he said sullenly. “She said that we would meet here at nine o’clock, if we were supposed to.”

“Yeah but she had no problem giving you her spit,” Nico muttered, something that Percy opted to ignore. “What the hell does that mean?” Nico added, already mixing a new round of drinks for the party goers. Percy offhandedly noticed that Nico employed a few extra barkeeps for the night.

“Something about fate, soulmates, Greek mythology; it’s all a blur, really,” Percy explained, though not very well, since the previous night was mostly nebulous in his memory.

“That’s an assortment,” Nico commented sarcastically. “Still think you’re stupid for not getting her number.”

“She has to be here,” Percy reassured himself. “She wouldn’t stand me up.”

Nico looked apprehensive. “Percy,” he said lightly, “you do realize that this bar is… rented out, right?”

“Yeah, what of it?” Percy prompted, craning his neck to see every nook and cranny of the bar. He couldn’t see much, due to the party—which,  _just his luck_ , happened to be a large one—and it’s attendees.

“That means if you’re not on the list…” Nico spoke slowly, not wanting to tell his friend this, “then you don’t get in, except for you who somehow is always the exception.” He added the last bit in what seemed, to Percy, to be an attempt to lighten the mood. “Perce, look, maybe she was here, but you  _are_  twenty minutes late.”

It didn’t work.

“I should have been here on time. I could have caught her outside,” Percy moaned, dropping his head onto the counter. It made Nico’s glasses jump. “I hate myself. I am so stupid.”

Nico pursed his lips in sympathy for one of his closest friends. “Come on, man, you guys believe in that fate stuff, so you’ll probably meet again.”

“What if we don’t?” Percy asked, already expecting the worst. “What if I never see her again? Nico, she was  _perfect_ ; I’d know it sober or not.”

He shrugged, bringing his tray of fruity drinks to the partygoers. Percy knew well-enough what that meant; Nico simply didn’t say it to save Percy the heartache.

* * *

_“And there is the headlight, shining far down the track, glinting off the steel rails that, like all parallel lines, will meet in infinity, which is after all where this train is going.” —Bruce Catton_

* * *

Annabeth stood towards the side, feeling the eyes of the bouncer on her but not caring; she had been there since 8:45, already having been rejected entrance twice. Percy was supposed to there; yet here it was 9:04, and the bar wasn’t even open to the public. She convinced herself, in the time range of less than twenty-four hours, that Percy truly was endearing, not some player who uttered his best lines drunk. However, all of those thoughts slowly drifted from her mind, being replaced by the possibility that Percy truly was just looking for a one-night stand.

_No_ , Annabeth chastised herself, shaking her head slightly.  _He’s not that sort of person_. She had to believe herself because it was the only thing she could hold onto at that point; she was the one who thought it would be great to play coy, a blurred memory of refusing her number to Percy multiple times. It was her fault that she was in this predicament, questioning whether or not she was simply a fool or just had the worst of luck.

“Are you sure I’m not allowed inside?” Annabeth asked, a desperate, pleading tone added to her voice this time, the last time.

The man nodded, not seeming to have the heart to tell her ‘no’ once again. She nodded once, walking to the curb to hail a taxi, knowing this time that she would be paying her own fare but hoping she would have another chance to complain when Percy leaned over and paid for her.

.: : :.

Percy opened the door to see an oddly familiar man. “Do you still want to buy my boat?

.: : :.

Annabeth read the e-mail, reading one line over and over. “You have been accepted.”

* * *

_“I have learned, that if one advances confidently in the direction of his dreams, and endeavors to live the life he has imagined, he will meet with a success unexpected in common hours.”_ — _Henry David Thoreau_

* * *

Percy signed his name one last time on the final line of the paperwork. Scratching his head, no longer having longer, shaggy ends to pull on, he glanced upwards to the man across from him. “That’s it?” Percy asked, cocking his head to the side.

“That’s it,” the man assured him. “Be sure to tell your dad hello for me; it’s been years.”

“He’ll probably hate you after this,” Percy joked, tossing the man a smile which remarkably resembled his father’s.

The man chortled, shaking his head. “Poseidon’ll be fine. You take care, son.” He stood up, clapped Percy on the shoulder which made Percy lurch forward momentarily. Staring into his now cold coffee, Percy glanced around the shop casually, hoping to catch a glimpse of golden hair.

Fay strolled by his table, ruffling his hair. “You alright, dear?”

“I’m great,” Percy answered, pasting a smile on his face. “My coffee’s gone cold, though.”

She rolled her eyes good naturedly. “I’m guessing that means you want me to get you another cup.”

“Beautiful  _and_  smart,” he replied, grinning at her.

Despite the blush that tinted her cheeks from the sweet compliment, she shook her head at the boy she had nearly adopted as her own. “Save the compliments for your future-wife, dearest.”

Percy felt his heart drop—a swift memory of soft lips pressing against his and lemon-scented hair—but managed to keep smiling at Fay. “That would be you, right?”

Fay scoffed, shaking her head at Percy’s buckets of charm. “I’ll get that coffee for you.” Percy smiled dotingly, his eyes flickering over to the blackboard almost subconsciously. The last time his eyes had ventured over there, he had gotten the confidence boost he needed. He hoped that today’s quote would provide him with the same luxury.

_Sometimes people come into your life, and you know right away that they are meant to be there; they serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson, or help you figure out who you are._

Percy huffed, leaning back in his seat.  _Another_  thing that reminded him of Annabeth. Fay set his coffee down in front of him, following his line of sight. “That’s one of my favorite quotes, you know,” she shared. “So simple. Just thinking about it—any stranger you meet could be someone who gives you things that you carry forever.”

_Do burdens as heavy as the sky itself count?_  Percy mused silently. “I like it, too,” he replied, sipping his coffee. “Reminds me of a friend.”

“Can this nosy old woman ask who?” Fay questioned, raising two grey eyebrows at Percy.

“Just someone I met. Her name’s Annabeth,” Percy mumbled under his breath, absolutely positive that he was blushing.

“ _Oh_ ,” Fay emphasized, understanding, “I see.”

Percy grinned at the woman who seemed to know everything. “Actually, Fay, can I get this to go? I gotta get back to work.”

“Oh, sure,” she answered easily. He handed the coffee over to her, and she moved behind the counter to pour it into a to-go cup. “I even added extra whip cream,” Fay told him, upon her return.

“You’re the absolute greatest.” Percy thanked her, hugging the woman that he considered his own grandmother tightly and shoved his phone into his pocket before rushing out the door; hopefully, he would make it to his office before the lunchbreak ended.

Despite his actions, the quote had seared it’s way into his mind, leaving it on repeat like a broken record.  _Sometimes people come into your life, and you know right away that they are meant to be there; they serve some sort of purpose, teach you a lesson, or help you figure out who you are._ Annabeth just sort of left him with a giant, gaping hole in his chest, constantly on the brink of asking, “what if?”

It was painful, to say the least. Having the embodiment of more or less everything he wanted before his eyes and yet, only having it for one, half-alert, drunken night. Percy just wished that he could go back in time and at least be a little more sober: a bit more clear-minded, to remember the little details—like the way she would smile or blush or try to ignore compliments. His night with Annabeth was full of fast fading memories, leaving a discouraged man who was back to his old ways of believing he would, indeed, be eternally lonely.

Sure, Percy had cleaned up his act. Just yesterday, he had politely given his father a two week notice of his resignation after the marina quickly accepted his job application. A few days before that, he had gotten a haircut to rid of the pieces falling in his eyes. And now, he was wearing a pressed shirt and tie—tied  _by himself_ —and slacks.

On the bright side, Annabeth had taught him one thing: don’t get wasted on the night you think you’ve found your soulmate. Either that or… well, Annabeth could probably think of a more sophisticated moral than him.

* * *

_“What the heart has once owned and had, it shall never lose.” —Henry Ward Beecher_

* * *

Annabeth smiled at the mousy girl who stood behind the counter once again. “Hi, Patty,” she addressed, having been in the coffee shop countless times yet never choosing to address the girl until then.

The girl tossed back a timid smile, having not expected the usually grumpy customer to address her. “Hi, what can I get you?”

She shrugged, glancing quickly towards the neat, handwritten menu before meeting the eyes of Patty once again. “Tell me, what is some of the weakest, yet good tasting coffee, that you can give me?”

“Nothing stong?” Patty asked for clarification, her surprise evident.

Annabeth chuckled, knowing well enough that a strong drink, with precise measurements, was her constant order. “Seriously, nothing strong.”

“How about a toffee nut latte?” Patty suggested, grabbing a cup in anticipation for whatever Annabeth ended up ordering.

She nodded once, fixing her gaze on Patty’s hazel eyes. “Well, that depends…” She paused, noting the way Patty seemed to tense. “Do you think you could throw on some whipped cream?” Annabeth bit her lip, noting how childish she sounded at that moment but truly not caring.

A warm smile slipped across Patty’s lips. “Yeah, I can do that. I’ll even bring it over to you.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she dismissed, not feeling the need to be treated as royalty when she was in no rush.

Patty shook her head, making grand gestures. “Seriously, we’re closing in a few, so it’s no big deal. Wait, don’t take that to mean I want you to leave… You seem… nice. I mean, you can stay as long as you want unless you absolutely need to leave. Well, what I mean is—”

“I’m in no rush,” Annabeth cut her off with a breathy chuckle, seeing where the constant babbling was headed. “Thanks, really.”

“No problem,” she quickly threw back, flicking her wrist in another grand gesture.

Pulling out her cellphone, Annabeth made her way to the first table, not taking the time to sit at what had felt like her assigned table; there was something different now than the previous times she sat there. Maybe it was the way she acknowledged Patty as a human being; Annabeth couldn’t be sure, but she no longer wanted to be defined as the girl who formerly sat at that table, an empty seat across from her. Quickly unlocking her phone, she found herself face to face with the same email she had read for weeks. “You have been accepted,” she read under her breath, scanning the memorized line over and over again, having already tucked it away into a folder for everyday use, “to our architecture graduate school.”

A smile quickly formed on her lips as Annabeth shook her head, placing her cellphone back into her pocket. Allowing her eyes to scan over the warm coffee shop, she settled once again on the quote of the day, wondering if, maybe this time, it would bring something…  _happier_  than the previous time.

_Parallel lines have a lot in common but they never meet. Ever. You might think that’s sad. But every other pair of lines meets once and then drifts apart forever. Which is pretty sad there are some lines that seem to be parallel, having a lot in common, but only meeting once—for a moment—finally realizing the other line exists, before it drifts away forever._

_So happy_ , Annabeth internally remarked, her smile morphing into that of a sad one. She wasn’t sure which was worse—having the huge disadvantage of never meeting him, or meeting a person once, who held so much in common with one. She was certain the second was worse because the place was always there, an odd hole that could never be filled, no matter what one did in life. Yes, she was certain the second was worse until she considered the third—they weren’t completely similar, and she was certain the differences somehow complimented the oth—

“Here you go,” Patty almost sang, placing the cup of coffee on top of a napkin, an endearing smile present.

Annabeth nodded, making her appreciation known. “The quote—”

“Patty,” Ophelia, a petite woman, standing near the blackboard, bellowed from the other side of the café, her French accent thick with annoyance, “we had that quote up just a month or so ago. We never repeat quotes, and I just put the quote box away.”

The girl, Patty, sighed, after just having finished writing the quotation only minutes before Annabeth entered, and shook her head; she could never do anything right. “Sorry, Fay.” Patty sent a silent apology towards Annabeth before making her way towards the aging woman.

“If you don’t mind,” Annabeth began, gaining the attention of Ophelia and Patty and standing up to take a couple steps towards them, “I have a quote?” They both nodded, waiting to hear the words. She cleared her throat, the attention for some reason unsettling her, “‘Rivers know this: there is no hurry. We shall get there someday.’” Her eyes flitted between the blank expressions of the two of them, deciding to explain her reasoning behind the quote. “It’s by E.B. White, the author of Winnie the Pooh. It reminds me… of someone.”

Ophelia, or Fay rather as it truly  _is_  much easier to say, smiled, something close to recognition sparking, “I certainly like that quote. I didn’t catch your name?”

“Annabeth,” she supplied, a thankful smile upon her lips at the acceptance of her quote.

Fay sent one back, even larger, shaking her head in disbelief. “Well, Patty, it looks like we can fix the quote for tomorrow. I have a feeling someone will like it.”

Patty nodded, and Annabeth watched as she picked up a soaping dishtowel to wipe the board clean from top to bottom.

“Annabeth,” Fay called out, diverting her attention for a second, “what do you say you come by tomorrow, maybe noonish, to celebrate that quote with a free cup of coffee?”

Annabeth nodded with a smile, figuring that her schedule would be much clearer after she had a lengthy conversation with her boss. “I think I can do that.” Fay returned the smile, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly with the smile’s formation into a simper.

Annabeth’s eyes flickered back to the board, catching the last phrase  _drifts away forever_  knowing it would soon become  _away forever—_

Her eyes remained fastened to the board, watching until it simply read  _forever_.

And then, it was gone. Forever.

**Author's Note:**

> I co-wrote this story with [ Jamie](http://fanfiction.net/~allstarry707).


End file.
